


that which starts by stark bright day

by warsfeil



Series: let not light see my black and deep desires [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: "hey guys let's make a one shot dnd campaign!" (ten sessions later) "shit", Gen, Original Character(s), and then i wrote a novelization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 10:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: In Which a Wizard and a Swordsman Fight Gnolls and Argue.A written version of a small household campaign, the prequel.Thereprobablyweren’t going to be gnolls. Aelar told himself that, but he wasn’t entirely sure he believed it; there were gnollseverywhere, it seemed like, and he knew that he looked extremely tasty to things that were nearly two feet taller than him.On the upside, they weren’t great with fire, which he considered to be a personal advantage.





	that which starts by stark bright day

**Author's Note:**

> my roommate, a fool: i made a one-shot dnd campaign, do you guys mind playing it so we can make sure it works?  
us, also fools: sure, we'll make one-shot characters for it!  
(us, at the end of the one-shot): but wait, we have to, like, overthrow the crown...  
my roommate: (making an entire binder) i guess we have an entire campaign now
> 
> anyway, since we can't play dnd every waking moment (for SOME reason), i decided to write a novelization of our dnd campaign! it's a fun writing exercise and i can make people care about our ocs, 10/10 would plan again. credit for the overarching plot goes to my roommate!
> 
> this is "session 0"! don't ask me where the story is going because i don't know, we're all in this together.

It wasn’t the greatest job. By the time Aelar made it to the board, most of the better options had already been chosen, everything that paid handsomely in either coin or renown rapidly being tackled by the more daring adventurers. That was more than fine with him, and so he contented himself with the odd jobs that remained. He’d already found a lost cat, which had eaten up the better portion of his morning and part of his afternoon, and rewarded him with a whopping sixteen copper and profuse thanks from the eight year old that had carefully penned the sign. He didn’t feel like taking on the local gnoll population, which meant that his afternoon was going to be spent looking for a magical flute that may or may not be squirreled away in one of the nearby caves.

There _probably_ weren’t going to be gnolls. Aelar told himself that, but he wasn’t entirely sure he believed it; there were gnolls _everywhere_, it seemed like, and he knew that he looked extremely tasty to things that were nearly two feet taller than him.

On the upside, they weren’t great with fire, which he considered to be a personal advantage.

With a sharp inhale, Aelar used the best of his limited muscle capacity to hoist himself up. The entrance to this particular cave was more vertical than he’d normally like to deal with, but the noblewoman he’d received the information from had been very insistent that this was probably, maybe, the correct location. Once on top of the ridge, he looked into the cave that awaited him. It… smelled like gnolls.

Damn. He’d really been looking forward to fighting something different, like a… huge bat, or a… bugbear… or a shrub. He’d fought a shrub, once, and kicked its ass. 

Aelar sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to get his clothing laundered again when he got back to the inn. The smell of gnoll was one of the most pervasive things he’d had the misfortune to smell, over and over and over again, and he knew better than to try and get it out on his own.

He stepped into the cave. His vision adjusted almost immediately, more accustomed to the darkness than to the bright light he’d been in previously. He could see the signs of the gnolls more clearly now: a bone, here or there, from something too impatient to drag its prey all the way back to where they must live. Droppings, half-covered by the dirt on the floor. 

It wasn’t hard to move through the cave with near-silence. Aelar wasn’t exactly stealthy, but even for him, it was just a matter of watching out for things on the floor. His vision kept him a few steps ahead, and he didn’t hesitate until the cave gave way to a larger room, in which several gnolls were sleeping. There was one on guard, who didn’t seem to have seen Aelar yet. Aelar ducked back behind the cave wall, slowly preparing a spell as quietly as possible.

He’d forgotten, of course, that it isn’t hearing that makes gnolls so lethal: it’s _smelling._

“--Shit!” Aelar managed the single word and not much else, jumping to the side to narrowly avoid the swipe the gnoll made at him. The others were rousing already, shaking off the effects of their midday sleep and falling into a position that would make the battle approximately six to one, which felt extremely unfair. 

“Get down!” yelled a voice from behind Aelar, and Aelar dropped without thinking, raising his arms like it would do any good against six enemies with teeth the size of his fingers. The gnoll that had been about to sink its claws into Aelar’s arms went sailing over his head, dislodging his hood. There was a series of increasingly disturbing noises -- a whuff, a thump, a clang, a whimper, and then a loud thud -- and then dead silence. When Aelar lowered his hands and opened his eyes, he saw five shell-shocked gnolls. He turned, carefully, and took in the sight of a distinctly dead gnoll at the feet of someone currently engaged in wiping a rapier off on the gnoll’s body. 

“Ugh,” the someone said, as though disgusted with the side-effect of the destruction that he himself had wrought. 

The other gnolls jolted themselves out of their stupor, howling as they raced forward to enact vengeance on the one who had killed them. Aelar scooted to the side, as quickly as possible, watching as the gnolls attacked the man, who batted them away with one sword, and then with another in rapid succession. Wow. 

Aelar stood back up, cautiously, now that the attention of the gnolls was thoroughly on the other man. One of the gnolls moved back towards him, like perhaps he could take Aelar on in the chaos, and Aelar responded by letting lightning crackle around his fingertips until he could give the gnoll a solid zap of electricity angled straight through the axe he was holding.

The gnoll howled. The gnoll turned around, as though looking for his companions to back him up, and saw: his companions, on the ground, in various shades of dismemberment. 

“Wow,” Aelar said, because there was something that had to be said when a six foot tall dual-wielding human came to your rescue and then murdered everything in the cave. Aelar wasn’t entirely sure “wow” was what should be said, in that situation, but his other option was to curse appreciatively in, like, Infernal or something, which was historically not a great way to start relationships with humans. 

The last gnoll whimpered and took off running, giving the man a wide berth as he scrambled out of the cave. 

“Gnolls,” the man grumbled, mostly to himself, wiping the blood off his blades with a deeply annoyed expression. “And -- what are you? A cleric? Why are you in here on your own?”

“I’m a wizard,” Aelar shot back, feeling like his already minimal pride was at risk of becoming deeply damaged. 

“You were about to be food,” the man said.

“I was fine,” Aelar insisted. He turned his back on the man, huffing slightly, and set to rooting gently through the rest of the den without actually touching anything with his hands. It didn’t look like there was a flute, but he was going to give it at least half an effort. He’d been wrong about the gnolls, after all, so it stood to reason that he would be equally wrong about the location of the flute.

“Uh-huh,” the man said, sounding supremely unconvinced. Aelar could hear the man putting away his swords, and he was fairly certain he could feel the way the man settled his gaze on Aelar’s back, watching as Aelar gently kicked over a small pile of bones in the corner.

“I was ready to fight them,” Aelar said, as primly as possible. “You interrupted me.” 

The man snorted. His chainmail clinked as he moved, and Aelar chanced a glance back over his shoulder. All the things that Aelar had seen about him in that first glance seemed to be true: he was taller than Aelar by a good foot or so, without any indicators that he was anything but human. 

He had nice hair, Aelar supposed, trying to think a little charitably.

“If I ever see you again, I’ll make sure to let you pick your own fight next time,” the man said, his voice a rolling crisp sarcasm.

“I wasn’t picking a fight, I was looking for something,” Aelar said. His annoyance was growing steadily, and he mentally started reciting the entire Elvish alphabet, backwards, in a small attempt to calm down. He wasn’t going to let some stupid swordsman get under his skin.

He was, however, going to let the fact that there was definitely no flute here get under his skin, just a little. 

Aelar turned hard on his heels, starting to head back out of the cave and brushing by the man as he did so. Walking out might have been more dramatic if Aelar wasn’t barely up to the man’s collarbone in inch-high heeled boots. 

The man shook his head as Aelar passed, and Aelar could hear the sound of chainmail behind him. He wanted to tell the man to stop following him, but it was an irrational response that Aelar quickly swallowed. There was only one way out of the cave, after all; it wasn’t like they were walking the same way intentionally. 

Finally, at the mouth of the cave, Aelar turned. “Thanks,” he offered, a little awkwardly. The man _had_ helped him, after all, even if Aelar thought it was more self-serving than actively charitable. The man glanced down at him, and Aelar tried not to squint as he looked up into the much brighter daylight. 

“Yeah,” the man responded, sounding just as awkward as Aelar had. “Try not to get killed by wolves on the way home.” 

Aelar huffed, quietly, and then started to climb down to the forest path again. There wasn’t much point in trying to figure out the next best location for the flute when the afternoon was rapidly turning into evening and most normal people were winding up the workday. The man watched him climb down for a moment and made exactly no movement to help, which suited Aelar just fine, up until the man simply jumped down from the ridge in a furious clattering of chain mail armor. 

_Show off_, Aelar thought, with some small amount of bitterness: if he’d done that, he’d absolutely have broken both his legs, and probably some other things besides. 

There was twilight falling across the woods as Aelar started to head home, which would have been peaceful, except he could hear the gentle clinking of chainmail armor just ahead of him. Aelar accepted the fact that they were taking the same route back to town, but that didn’t mean he didn’t resent it at least a little. The resentment built up once they hit town and continued to go the same route through the town center, past the fountain, and arrived at the same inn.

Which, _sure_, was the inn that had been recommended to Aelar when he had entered town a few days prior, but there were probably other ones that people could stay at! 

“Seriously?” the man said, when Aelar gently brushed past him on the second floor of the inn to open his room door. Their rooms were, appallingly, right next to each other, which felt like salt rubbed into an already raw wound.

“What?” Aelar replied, slightly defensive. He turned to look back at the man, who just heaved a sigh and shook his head.

“Nothing,” the man said, stepping into his room and letting the door shut behind him. Aelar followed suit, slightly sullen, and wondered how he’d managed to not notice the sound of chainmail previously.

It seemed so loud now, even through the wall.

-

Aelar still wasn’t a morning person. It had been years since he’d started trying to force himself on a schedule that matched that of the sun, and he always hated it; his morning ritual tended to involve oozing down into whatever inn he was staying in to get two separate mugs of coffee, and then drinking them both in his room until he could form complete sentences.

He was in the process of pouring more sugar than strictly necessary into his second cup when the innkeeper greeted someone else who was up at the crack of dawn. Aelar, who had not yet managed to actually drink any of his coffee, completely failed to process any of the words that were spoken, and just turned to head back up to his room. 

He walked into a chest, instead. Well, bumped, really; he was grateful that there hadn’t been more distance, because all the coffee stayed contained in the mugs. 

“Watch it,” the man said.

Aelar looked up at the man from the previous day. He considered his options. He considered the fact that they were both down at the counter of the inn, the man’s hair in a braid that looked like he had slept in it and Aelar’s sleep clothes feeling very inadequate.

The man made eye contact with Aelar, and Aelar, for lack of any better way to cope with the situation, raised one of his still steaming mugs of coffee to his lips and drained the entire thing. 

Then he set it on the counter and walked back upstairs. There wasn’t enough coffee in the _world_ for him to deal with any of this right now.

-

By the time Aelar finished his second cup of coffee, fixed his hair back into its customary half ponytail, and gotten dressed, he felt a marginally more positive outlook on the entire situation. Marginally. He was still vaguely considering the idea of climbing under his blankets and sleeping until he felt better, but he knew from experience that feeling better wasn’t something he actually had time to wait around for. Particularly not when the inn wasn’t exactly cheap and his adventures in finding lost cats were not exactly well-paying.

He set off for the town center again, braiding the hair that kept migrating over his shoulder in an attempt to keep it from getting in his way. He pulled his hood up, trying to do his best to block out the worst of the sunlight before it left his skin red. 

There wasn’t much new on the board. This wasn’t surprising: the town wasn’t exactly _big_, so there weren’t as many odd jobs. Aelar hadn’t been planning to stay very long to begin with, but he thought maybe he would make his visit even shorter by necessity. The job that was up today was…

...to kill gnolls.

Aelar could leave town today, he thought. There was nothing actually stopping him. Realistically, he knew that he should try to get a little more pocket money to be a little more prepared before he ventured out, which is the only reason he reached out to grab the paper pinned to the board. As he reached for it, another hand reached for the paper, and they wound up grabbing opposite sides at the same time.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Aelar followed the line of the arm up to its owner. Because nothing in Aelar’s life could ever be easy, it proved to be the man from the previous day, suited up in his newly-cleaned armor.

“I’m taking this,” the man said.

“You killed gnolls yesterday. I’ll do it today,” Aelar said, which he considered to be a very fair compromise. The man, apparently, did not agree: he snorted, deep in his throat. 

“The gnolls would kill you,” the man said.

“I know you think very little of me, but I’m more than capable of handling myself,” Aelar said. He wasn’t sure what he felt he had to prove, exactly: he would leave this town and this man behind soon enough, and he didn’t care what anyone thought of him in the interim. He wanted to fade into the background of their minds, easily forgotten as just another passing adventurer.

“Right,” the man said, looking unimpressed. 

“I--” Aelar started, but broke off when an approaching man redirected his attention.

“‘Scuse me, folks,” the new man said, reaching up to take the paper off the board. “Sorry if you were lookin’ to fill this one, but it looks like someone took care of it on their way into town this mornin’.”

“Oh,” Aelar said.

“If you’re lookin’ for some extra work, we could always use help on the farm,” the man continued. His face was well-worn by sun, wrinkled and kind, but farm work was one of Aelar’s least favorite odd jobs. He’d rather be short on money.

“Thank you,” the swordsman from the previous day offered, considerably more politely than anything he’d said to Aelar. “But I was just looking for something that might cross paths with what I was already working on.”

“I understand your type, don’t you worry,” the farmer offered, clapping him on the shoulder resolutely. “Fightin’ is for the young and farmin’ is for men like me, so I’m sure you’ve got more’n enough work around these parts without me havin’ you shovel dung around.”

Aelar, despite himself, crinkled his nose slightly. The swordsman met his gaze, mouth quirking like he was trying not to smile. 

“Thank you,” Aelar offered, also, inclining his head gently. He could follow up on the flute, maybe. Ask for clearer directions. It was probably his best shot.

-

“Are you following me?” Aelar asked, halfway down the road out of town.

“No,” the swordsman said, meeting Aelar’s annoyed tone beat for beat. “I’m trying to do my job.”

“So am I,” Aelar said. And then, hesitantly: “You’re not looking for a flute, are you?”

The man gave him a weird look. “A flute? Is that what you were looking for yesterday?”

Aelar hedged silently to himself, trying to decide exactly how much he wanted to tell this man. It didn’t seem like his job was anything to do with Aelar’s, so it seemed safe enough, for the moment. Aelar wasn’t above making casual conversation, he just… Honestly, he just thought this guy was kind of an ass.

“Yes,” Aelar admitted, slowly. “A magical flute. It’s probably in a cave.” Aelar hesitated for a moment, hedging bets before weighing in on one side. “You’re not heading to a cave, are you?” 

The man looked down at Aelar. “Try not to get in my way.”

It was a _yes_ if Aelar had ever heard one, which was unfortunate, but at that juncture unavoidable. Aelar wasn’t exactly opposed to letting someone else do all the dirty work of fighting. He could hold his own ground well enough, but he wouldn’t have come out of that last encounter with the gnolls unscathed… not that he had any intentions of admitting it. (Realistically, he knew he didn’t need to: the other man was at least competent enough to know how little armor most wizards are capable of wearing, and Aelar’s several layers of clothing provided very little actual defense against teeth and fangs.)

They both headed off the path at nearly the same time, and fell back into step alongside each other just as easily. The cave that Aelar was heading for this time -- the cave that they were _both_ heading for -- was further away, and Aelar tugged his hood up to try and cast away the sun as it started to beat down on his fair skin. 

“What,” Aelar said, quietly, when they got to the mouth of the cave, “are you trying to find in there?”

The man shrugged his shoulder up. “Something’s been picking off travelers.”

Aelar pursed his lips, trying to decide how much concern that merited in relation to his own personal wellbeing.

“If you’re going to be in my way, at least stay behind me,” the man said.

“I’m not in your way if I’m behind you,” Aelar argued, annoyance touching his tone again. The man didn’t answer, which was even more annoying than if he’d shot back a retort.

Aelar could move more quietly than the man can, given his chainmail armor, but Aelar still kept a safe distance back. He was better at range no matter what, and while he wasn’t used to fighting alongside anyone, he understood the _theory_ of a meat shield. 

The cave was deeper than the one prior, and by the time they get to the back of it, the sunlight was a dim beam in the distance. There was a corpse in the corner, a putrid odor contaminating the air like poison, and Aelar’s eyes zeroed in on the small backpack laying next to the body, seemingly untouched. 

The man glanced at Aelar, and Aelar hesitated; there hadn’t been anything at all to suggest there were enemies in the cave, which left him more unsettled than if something had attacked. The man seemed to be feeling similarly, given how he kept scanning the darkness like he could see in it. 

Aelar stepped forward, towards the body, and then hesitated. He turned-- 

“Look out!” Aelar yelled, and he had to give the man credit: the man whirled around without question, his sword leaving a nearly visible track in the air as he swung it down at the movement Aelar had seen. The movement swirled and coalesced into a form, too many teeth and too many tentacles. It wasn’t beat back in the slightest, simply slithering to the side and dodging the man’s strike entirely.

“Shit!” The man took out his second sword with a flourish that would have been admirable, under different circumstances; Aelar could see how fighting was practically second nature to the man. Given that Aelar was lucky to actually know which end of a sword was actually the part you stabbed with, he filed it away as a note on the man’s competence.

It wasn’t helping. The man was fending off the attacks from the creature, but he wasn’t managing to do much damage, and Aelar could see the way the monster was slowly trying to corner them. 

“Move!” Aelar yelled, finally; he didn’t wait for the man to move before he raised his hands. The monster turned his attention onto Aelar, which was terrifying enough in its own right, but he had to nail the spell perfectly unless he wanted to cause a large amount of collateral damage. Carefully, he spread his fingers, flames sparking out from the edges slowly and then surging towards the monster in an instant.

The man moved, and then moved back the second the fire died; he spun in for a hit that actually landed, the monster temporarily distracted by the pain of being on fire. It was screaming, a horrible noise that made Aelar wince, but he didn’t have time to cover his ears: the monster had decided he was the bigger of the two threats, lashing a tentacle out and wrapping it securely around Aelar’s leg.

“_Fuck_,” the man said. He dove in, hacking at the tentacle with one sword while he tried to stab into the meat of the monster with his other; he was moderately successful at both, but didn’t fully accomplish either. 

Inhaling, Aelar steadied himself. If he misstepped now, they were both going to die, and Aelar wasn’t planning on letting that happen. The tentacle around his leg was searing through, dissolving through the fabric of his robe, so he didn’t have long to think about it. Fire had worked well last time -- the thing didn’t have eyes, so Aelar wasn’t sure how well he could blind it, but he could at least try and make it _burn_ \-- and he utilized as much of his power as he could, summoning more fire to rain down upon it one after the other. 

“Have you been able to do that this _whole time_\--” the man yelled over the roar of the flames and the monster screaming.

The man took a hit; he went down, hard enough that Aelar worried that he would be dazed, but he was back on his feet again quick enough. He dove forward, arcing his swords down in careful aim at the flailing monster, ignoring the way one of the tentacles slammed hard into his chest and wrapped around his arm. The hits were clean, this time, and seared through the monster with a spray of green bile.

“I didn’t think I needed to!” Aelar said, slamming a final bolt of fire into the monster for good measure.

The monster went quiet slowly, thrashing around just enough that Aelar was fairly certain his clothing was going to be too thoroughly bloodied to be salvageable by the time this was over. Finally, there was silence, save for the sound of harsh breathing and a faint sizzling as the monster leaked poison. 

“You,” the man said, “okay, over there?” He was down on one knee, as if steeling himself; Aelar could see that there was blood across his face, leaking from his nose, and a suspiciously growing dark spot on his side.

“Yes,” Aelar said, sitting up as gingerly as possible. The man poked at the backpack of the corpse with his sword, carefully nudging it until the deteriorated fabric gave way. Several gold pieces came tumbling out, alongside a small knife and a flute.

“Guess we both got what we came for,” the man said. He hefted himself up, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand. Aelar managed to get to his feet a few seconds later, but whatever acrid substance the monster had been leaking had taken a toll on Aelar’s leg, and he felt it give way. 

“Yeah,” the man said, wrapping an unsteady arm around Aelar before he could fall back onto the ground. “Figured that would happen.”

The man made sure that Aelar was steady before he moved away, swiping the flute up and pressing it into Aelar’s hands.

“You up to walking?” 

“Yes,” Aelar said. It was slow going, with only one leg able to support his weight properly, and he sorely regretted the fact that he’d left his quarterstaff back at the inn, but the man kept pace with him, and they made it back out into the sun.

“Thank you,” Aelar said, finally. He turned to look at the man, moved too quickly, and nearly fell again. The man saved him as effortlessly as before, but Aelar could see the way he winced when the movement pulled at his wound. 

“You were useful enough in there,” the man said. He didn’t let go of Aelar, this time, helping him down the path. It seemed to work a little easier, keeping both of them from jarring any of their wounded parts. It took longer than they wanted to get back to town, the sun going from bright to twilight before they made it. 

“You look like shit!” the tavernkeeper observed when they managed to make it inside. The swordsman grunted, and despite her language she stepped over to try and help.

“I’m fine,” Aelar said, offering her a smile he knew was too dim to be believe and then moving in to collapse inside his room. 

“I’ll send some food up for you both,” the woman offered, and the swordsman grunted again, easing himself into his room. 

She made good on her promise. Aelar managed to eat half a bread roll before he fell asleep.

-

“What did the flute _do_?” is what Aelar was greeted with when he made it back to the board, two days later.

“Oh,” Aelar said, glancing at the swordsman. “Summoned frogs.”

“Frogs? Like… monsters?” the swordsman asked. There were no new postings on the board whatsoever, which is what Aelar had been anticipating. He’d paid his bill at the inn already, his bag slung over his shoulder, and was ready to head out for whatever might be on the way to the next town.

“No,” Aelar said, observing that the man was in a similar state of travel ready. “Just frogs. Little ones. Some were different colors.”

“Huh. That’s… useless,” the man said. His arms were crossed as he looked at the board, which continued to lack any postings that weren’t farmwork.

“She really liked frogs,” Aelar said. It didn’t matter much, in the end; she’d paid more than the flute was worth, given what it did, so it was _almost_ worth the fact that he was still moderately bandaged. The swordsman, annoyingly, seemed to be back to full health without even a scar to show. 

“I heard that there’s a bandit problem a town over,” the man said, almost conversationally.

Aelar hesitated. He recognized the statement for what it was, and he knew that he had two options ahead of him. He wasn’t used to traveling with people; he knew that he had too many secrets, he had too much baggage… but at the same time, the fight in the cave was only the latest in a string of near misses that he’d suffered in recent memory. 

He could use a travel companion, maybe. For a town or two.

“Bandits,” Aelar said, “are extremely flammable.”

The man’s mouth quirked up into something that almost resembled a smile. 

“I could use a firestarter,” the man said. “So you’re less useless than the flute.”

“At least I have that going for me,” Aelar said, trying not to let the sarcasm drip off _too_ heavily. It tended to be frowned on, in polite company. Not that Aelar was in polite company to begin with.

The man started walking, his chainmail clinking and bright in the sunlight as though it had never seen his own blood oozing out. 

“I’m,” Aelar said, after a moment of indecision on the matter, falling into step alongside the man, “Aelar.”

“Ari,” the man said. They didn’t shake hands, but Ari reached down, brushing his hand across Aelar’s shoulder in a burst of chilly pain relief that went straight to help relax his bad leg. 

“Have you been able to heal this _whole time_?” Aelar asked, somewhat aggrieved.

“Yeah,” the man said, without a trace of apology in his voice. “I didn’t think I needed to.”

Aelar rolled his eyes and felt himself smile despite it.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly you guys are lucky i didn't include long involved descriptions of ari's eye color from aelar's POV. if you are wondering, "are they going to date" the answer is definitely yes _but it hasn't happened yet so don't ask me when_. 
> 
> as i said, we're all in this confusing, ongoing handbasket together. let's have fun.


End file.
